


Secrets and Spies: Kabul

by NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable



Series: SSTL 'Verse [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gore, I mean it, It's coming, Lots and lots of all of the above, Pain, Revenge, Torture, be warned, for real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8525284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable/pseuds/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable
Summary: Flashback from "Secrets and Spies, Truths and Lies": What really happened to Killian and Liam five years earlier in Kabul.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for the amazing and lovely @killian-whump, who has waited so patiently for me and deserves all the whump in the world as payment. I just try to contribute the best I can.
> 
> And a massive, humongous thank you to @icecubelotr44 for all the support and friendship and betaing even when I couldn't spell basic CVC words anymore. You are quite literally the best.

Killian woke in darkness to the feeling of movement beneath him, vibrations of an engine and tires bumping across a dirt road rumbling through his exhausted body.  He was tired, groggy, hadn’t slept nearly enough, and he had no idea where the hell he was.  He could still feel the bruises on his back and legs, where the local police force had been a little too overzealous with their batons earlier, along with the cold metal of handcuffs tightly pulling his wrists behind his back.

“He- hello?” he called out, his voice hoarse.

“Finally, you’re up,” he heard his brother’s voice in the dark.  “You all right, Killian?”

He took quick stock of his injuries, nothing new that he could feel, everything else minor enough.  “Aye, you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Liam replied quietly. 

He almost didn’t want to ask the next question, but he had no choice.  “Milah?”

A pause from his brother.  “Not here,” Liam said.  “I haven’t seen her since the flat.”

_ No... _

Killian sagged back against the wall of the vehicle, his arms pulling at his shoulders as he sat but he almost didn’t feel it, a combination of worry and the leftover codeine still in his system.  He had no idea who had them, who had grabbed them from their rented apartment in Kabul, and no clue what they wanted.

It was definitely not a good situation, especially with Milah gone.

“What happened?” he asked quietly, his memories of the last few hours hazy with the powerful drugs still in his system.

“They came into the flat, grabbed us, brought us to the van.  I don’t know where they took Milah, I couldn’t see much.”  He could almost hear Liam’s shrug in the dark.  “Seems like the terrorist cell we were tracking, but I can’t be certain.”

Killian ran over the details of the case in his head, as much as he could remember without the file in front of him, a low-grade headache pounding steadily behind his eyes.  MI6 hadn’t been able to dig up very much on the group they’d been trying to find, and Killian’s earlier attempts to get more information nearly landed him in the local prison with a mild concussion.  Whoever they were, they were good at staying quiet, under the radar.

But now, to come out during the daylight hours and just grab them like that?  It didn’t make sense.  Why now?  Had they accidentally found more info than they realised?  Maybe the cell panicked, grabbed them out of desperation, take Killian and company before MI6 could act first.  But what would they be so worried about?  To Killian’s knowledge, they’d found next to nothing on either the members or the leaders, just the rough location in Afghanistan, and even that was still the subject of debate between him and his partner.

_ Milah. _

His chest hurt with a sudden ache that had nothing to do with the bruises on his ribs.  He needed to get to her, find her, before the terrorists got to her first.

He twisted his fingers until he could grasp the cold metal of the handcuffs, tried to feel for the keyholes, to think of something, anything, he could use to pick the locks.  His belt was gone, must have been taken when they grabbed him while he was only semi-conscious, and he couldn’t reach his shoes to tell if the laces were still intact.  He’d used the hardened tips of the to pick locks before, it wasn’t ideal and took far too much time, but maybe…. 

His fingers scraped his boot, his leg bent half-backward to reach.  Killian felt the front of his shoe.  No laces.

Great.

“I tried already,” he heard his brother’s voice across the darkened van.  “Can’t pick them.”

_ Of course he had, _ Killian thought almost angrily.  Of course his brother, practical and perfect, had thought of every possible escape route.

He sighed loudly, his head thumping against the wall of the van as he lay back.  He closed his eyes.  Didn’t matter anyway, it was too dark to see anything.  He stretched out his legs, his foot bumping into his brother’s.  It took conscious effort not to jerk his foot away.

“I’m sorry,” Liam whispered, almost inaudible over the roar of the engine, the vibration of the cab.  “I couldn’t stop them, I’m so sorry.”

Killian let out another breath, slowly, deliberately.

“I know,” he said, hiding any sign of anger from his voice.  “Not your fault.”  It  _ wasn’t  _ Liam’s fault they were in this mess, he knew that perfectly well.  So why the hell was he so mad at his brother?

Frustration clawed through him, the lack of movement, the confined space closing in on him.  He’d never been claustrophobic before, but he couldn’t shake the need to  _ get out _ , get free, to  _ do _ something.  Milah was out there, somewhere, alone without them, without  _ him _ , and he needed to get to her, make sure she was okay.

“We’ll find her,” Liam said softly.  “No matter what happens, I’ll make sure of it somehow.  We’ll find her, Killian.”

“I hope you’re right,” he answered groggily, the effects of the drugs still tugging at his eyelids.  He shook his head.  Couldn’t let himself fall asleep, not now, not with everything at stake, some unknown threat.  He’d heard that adrenaline in response to fear could push the medicine through a body faster, help get it out quicker, but it seemed to be doing no such thing for him.  He yawned as silently as he could, trying to hold his mouth closed tightly.

Liam knew, he always knew.

“Rest, brother.  I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Killian nodded, knowing Liam couldn’t see, but it was more for himself anyway.  They had been captured, taken, and there was nothing he could do but try to catch up on the sleep his body seemed to need.

He dropped his head against the wall of the van and was asleep before he knew it.

* * *

He woke later to Liam kicking him in the leg, hard.

“Wake up!” his brother hissed in the dark.

Killian stretched out as much as he could, tried to work out the kinks that had developed in his neck and shoulders from having his arms twisted behind him.  He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but it definitely wasn’t enough.  He could feel the van slowing, the ground rougher than it had been the last time he was awake, and he only hoped he had enough energy for whatever unknown enemy they’d have to face.

The vehicle came to a stop, and he wasn’t sure if he was terrified or grateful.  He hid both as he listened to the noises outside.  A few people got out, muffled voices speaking Arabic was all he could hear, nothing he could make out clearly through the walls of the van.  Heavy boots crunched on dry rocks, approaching the rear doors, the sound of keys in a lock, a grating of metal as the handle turned and the doors swung open.

Bright light stung Killian’s eyes.  He blinked hard, twisting his head to the side to escape the late afternoon sunshine pouring into the open doors of the van.  He didn’t get the chance for his eyes to adjust before he felt rough hands grab his arms and pull him from the vehicle.  His feet landed heavily on the rocky desert ground, his boots sending up quick puffs of orange dust as he tried to remain standing.

He felt Liam behind him before his eyes had fully opened, heard him take a step until he stood next to him, arm to arm.  Killian straightened just a bit, his vision clear enough to take in the three other men, their weapons, and the desolate desert area surrounding them on all sides, a small house just a few yards away the only structure in sight.  He felt any semblance of hope he’d managed to scrape together on the ride disappear, evaporate into the desert sun until there was nothing left.

There was no way out.  Not this time, not even with Liam at his side, not without knowing where Milah was.

Well, at least he could try his best to find her.

“Where’s Milah?” Killian bit out at the men.

No response.

He tried again, a little louder.  “Where’s Milah?”

One of the men glared at him but didn’t say a word.

“ _ Ayna Milah _ ?” he tried in Arabic, staring directly into the man’s eyes.

He didn’t see the blow until it was too late, the butt of another man’s rifle slamming hard into his stomach from the other side.  Killian coughed out a breath, the air forced from his lungs as he bent forward, his arms pulling tightly behind his back, but he managed not to fall.  He tried to catch his breath.  “Where’s Milah?” he wheezed out, still hunched over.

The large gun struck him again, this time in his side.  He grunted, staggered into Liam, but stayed on his feet.

“Where’s-” he started again, until Liam’s foot stomped on top of his.

“Shut up, Killian,” he hissed quietly, directly in his ear.  “Not now.”

Killian looked up at his brother, the hard line of his mouth, the firmness in his eyes, and he fell silent.  Without a word, one of the men grabbed Liam’s arm and tugged him into the house, Killian led just a few paces behind his brother flanked by the other two.

They were pushed into a small room ten feet inside the front door of the building, the heavy metal door scraping shut behind them, the sound of a bolt sliding across, the men on the other side.  Locked in.  Killian looked around, his brother doing the same beside him.  A tiny window high in one wall - too small for either of them to fit through, barely a hand’s width across - was the only source of light in the room.  There was no way to climb up, even if they could fit through.  The room was bare, aside from a bucket half-filled with stale water and a pile of rotten food beside it.

Killian leaned against a wall, stretching his arms down his back as far as he could.  He sank slowly to the floor, the wall at his back, as he wriggled in the handcuffs.  Liam sat across from him.  He heard his brother let out a long breath, but neither of them wanted to be the first to talk.

It didn’t really matter to Killian, he was too busy concentrating on the metal cuffs around his wrists.  He twisted one leg up, through the loop of his arms, then the other, and in a minute his hands were in front of him.  Still locked inside the metal restraints, but at least it wasn’t pulling on his shoulders anymore.  And now he could take a look at the lock, see if there was anything he could use to pick it open.

Not like there was anywhere to go anyway, even if they could find a way out.  He’d seen the landscape, at least fifty miles of open desert surrounding them.  How far could he get anyway, could he and Liam get together, before someone noticed they were missing and came after them?  It was a waste of time to even try, but he couldn’t help it.  He had to do  _ something _ to keep from going crazy.

“I’m sorry,” he heard his brother’s voice from across the room.  Soft, quiet, sincere.  “This is all my fault.”

“It’s not, okay?” Killian replied, squinting at the handcuffs and the tiny lock built inside.  “Now shut up and help me find a way to get these things off.”  He stifled another yawn, angry that he was still so damn tired despite everything that was happening to them.

“Can’t pick these, Killian.  I told you that in the van.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to just give up,” he growled back, with more bite than he’d intended.  He sighed quietly, the chain of the cuffs clinking as he dropped his hands to his lap.  “Look, I just... I’m sorry.  I can’t sit here and wait, I can’t.”

“I know,” Liam murmured.  “I know that.”

“And with Milah out there, somewhere… I shouldn’t have brought her here, I shouldn’t have taken this mission with her, not here, not with these dangers.”

“You couldn’t have known this would happen,” Liam said harshly.  “Don’t blame yourself, she knew the risks, same as you.”

Killian stared hard at his brother.  “So you can take all the blame and I can’t?  Is that how it works?”

“Yeah,” Liam smiled, actually  _ smiled _ back.  “That’s exactly how it works.  I’m your superior, I shouldn’t have allowed you to come here at all, not just her.  Risks outweighed the information we had, the mission shouldn’t have been approved.”

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Liam…”

Liam shook his head.  “No point in playing this game, brother.”  He lifted his head, fixed some semblance of grim determination on his face instead of the heavy guilt Killian had glimpsed just a moment before.  “We can point fingers all day.  The question is, what do we do now?  You’re the tactical expert, and you’ve had more field experience than me.  Any ideas besides trying to pick the unpickable handcuffs?”

Killian waited a minute before replying.  The leftover drugs in his system were wreaking havoc with his emotions, furious one minute, terrified the next, and he needed everything to just  _ stop _ for a minute so he could think, categorise, come up with a strategy.  He looked around the room again, taking in details he hadn’t noticed before.  The peeling paint off the cement walls.  The stains in the far corners that he didn’t want to think about too hard.  The dried streaks of burgundy in different areas on the floor that he  _ definitely _ tried to ignore.  Ceiling too high, window too small, no food, no drinkable water, nothing else in the room besides themselves.  His gaze wandered back to his hands, cuffed in front of him, and then across the small room to his brother.

He shook his head.  “I can’t think of anything.”

Liam offered him a brief smile.  “You will.  And if not, they’ll come back soon enough, give us a better idea of who’s got us and why, maybe catch them making a mistake.”

Killian nodded silently.

Across the room, in the slowly darkening light, Liam closed his eyes.  He rested his head back against the wall, his tense posture relaxing somewhat.

“Rest, Killian,” he said quietly.  “I have a feeling we’ll need it.”

“Aye.”

They settled against their respective walls.  A thousand thoughts ran through Killian’s head, aborted plans, terrible ideas, worse visions of whatever was happening to Milah, wherever she was.  He squeezed his eyes shut, forced his breaths to even out, and let the weight of his exhaustion drag him under the darkness.

* * *

Liam closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep.  He heard Killian's breathing turn shallow and even, familiar even in this hellhole.  Soon he was certain his brother was asleep. 

Good, he thought.  He needed it. He knew Killian was hiding the bruises from earlier, why the _ hell  _ his brother had to piss off the local police force was beyond him. They had been desperate, chasing any lead they could find, but it was no excuse to be so reckless, especially in a place they'd never been before.

Liam knew there was a British Army base somewhere outside Kabul. They'd made arrangements with the officers there in case of emergency. 

He’d had no idea they'd need backup so soon.

He watched Killian sleep as the sun went down.  He couldn't help the notes of guilt that crept into his chest.  He'd just told Killian not to play the blame game, but he knew it was fully his fault.  He was Killian's superior - Milah's too.  He shouldn't have let them come here, should have ignored Killian's pleas to use the opportunity to test a new facet of the program he'd just helped design for the security agency. 

It wasn't worth it, he knew, knew now, but hadn't said a word.  He should have shut the whole thing down,  _ especially _ after Killian's run-in with the local cops.  He should have recognised the greater exposure, the greater danger.  He should have seen this coming.

His baby brother, his only family, the boy he'd mostly raised on his own, had always relied on Liam to keep him safe, and this was no exception.  Liam had failed, spectacularly, and now he had no idea if he could protect Killian in all this.

Liam rested his head against the wall, his eyes still trained on his brother’s sleeping form on the far side of the room, and let out a sigh.  Whatever was coming, he knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant, for either of them.  He needed his strength, to get some rest, especially without knowing when they’d next get a chance to take a breather.

With another slow release of air, Liam closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All credit for this chapter goes to Icecubelotr44, for her immense patience, friendship, understanding, support, and everything she does to coax me through. Seriously, I owe you tons.

Liam jolted awake at the sound of the heavy deadbolt sliding through the lock on the door.  The room was dark, a pale glow from the window the only light, and he could barely make out Killian’s hunched form across the room.  Still asleep, but not for long.

The door opened loudly, startling Killian and spilling light from the corridor into the room.  Three men strode in, heavy weapons slung across their backs.  Backlit against the hallway light, Liam couldn’t tell if they were the same men as before, but it didn’t really matter.  One approached him, indicated he should stand, a barked, “ _Yalla_ ,” the only word spoken.

Liam struggled against the wall to his feet.  His hands were still cuffed tightly behind him; he wasn’t as physically flexible as Killian and regretted not working out alongside his brother more often.  He knew Killian, as a field operative, needed the training more than he did - sitting at a desk while running scenarios and tweaking programming didn’t require much dexterity - but he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy as his tightly-pulled arms and shoulders protested his every movement.

Killian was a pace behind him, flanked by two of the men once again.  Apparently, they remembered the earlier incident outside the van and were keeping him well guarded.  Liam sighed internally and wished his brother had picked up a little more common sense since then.  He was certain they’d both need every ounce of self-control they had for whatever it was that was waiting for them outside the room.

He briefly locked eyes with his younger brother, the quick flash of fear in Killian’s sending shocks of terror through him as well.  Killian was the strategist, the one who could see a dozen different scenarios in his head and plot the best course of action.  If he was scared…  Liam forced a determined look on his face and nodded quickly, so small a movement he hoped Killian could see it.

“ _Yalla_ ,” came the order again, a hand shoving him forward and into the hallway.  Liam stumbled out of the room and into the light, his brother’s footsteps behind him.

They were led deeper into the small house, the peeling paint on the mud-brick walls evidence of neglect, a sure sign that the house was nobody’s home.  The corridor wasn’t that long, though it felt that way to Liam as he tried to memorise every inch of it in case they’d need the information later.  At the end of the hall, a doorway opened to the left.  The man beside Liam nudged him through, and he barely caught the gasp that worked it’s way up his throat from escaping out loud.

The room wasn’t full, and the few items in it caught Liam’s attention at once.  A few hard, wooden chairs scattered about, a long table, a low cot against a wall, a thin, stained mattress atop it.  There were more weapons lying on the table, some larger guns propped in the corner opposite the doorway.  A long hose was attached to a spigot low on the farthest wall, which immediately struck him as odd.

But it was the dark red staining on the floor that captured most of Liam’s initial assessment of the room.  And the thick chains attached to the ceiling, others lying in coiled piles under the table.  And the various debris around that at first glance seemed just innocuous garbage, but on a closer look they carried the same deep brown as the floor.

He knew.  He knew exactly what was going to happen to them.

“No,” Liam whispered quietly.

Behind him, he heard Killian’s sharp intake of breath, knew his brother had come to the same conclusion he had.  But Killian didn’t even try to control his reaction.  Liam turned quickly, saw Killian start struggling against the two men that held tightly to his bound arms.  Killian’s boots scraped against the cement floor, trying to push back against the guards, to get out, to run-

Nowhere.  There was nowhere to go.  They were trapped, alone, in the middle of the desert, for who knew what reason, and there was absolutely no way out.

“No!” Liam cried out, twisting roughly away from the man at his arm.  He felt the grip tighten around his bicep, but he pulled back anyway, ignoring the bruising marks the guard’s fingertips were most likely leaving on his skin.  He could hear the noises from his brother’s scuffle behind him, but he was too focused on getting away, staying out of the dreaded room, to pay close attention.

But the unmistakable sound of a fist striking flesh made him turn so fast his neck cracked.  

Killian was doubled over, the guards holding tightly to his arms as they wrestled him across the floor.  Liam tried to yank himself away from the man grasping him, to get to his brother, to do _something_ , but he couldn’t.  He could only watch as Killian’s arms were raised high above his head, the short chain between the cuffs at his wrists looped onto an iron hook hanging from the ceiling, holding him in place.  Killian struggled, fought to free his arms from the hook, but he was firmly trapped.

Trapped.

Liam’s mouth went dry as the other men left his brother and approached him.  They were trapped somewhere in Afghanistan in a bloodstained room and nowhere to run.  He almost didn’t feel their hands grabbing his arms, pulling him to the chair.  He almost didn’t notice when they unlocked the handcuffs, their grip tightening as they secured each of his wrists to the arms of the chair, his legs strapped down as well.

Trapped.

His eyes met Killian’s, held his brother’s gaze for a long minute as the thick leather straps were tightened on his limbs.  Killian’s arms were stretched over his head, his feet barely reaching on the floor.  Killian twisted slightly in the chains, the hook holding more of his weight than he seemed to want to allow.

Liam fought to hold back the absolute terror from his eyes, the twisting fear that had him trembling where he sat.  Killian seemed to be fighting a similar battle, but Liam knew, he recognised the emotion that hid in his brother’s face as the same as his own.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, slow, deliberate, the clicking of shoes on the cement the only sound in the room.  Liam glanced behind his brother toward the doorway and waited.

He wasn’t prepared for the identity of the man who walked in, couldn’t hold back the gasp this time, or the fiery _anger_ that began burning in his gut.

“Gold,” he spat, ignoring the way Killian twisted in his chains to see.  “Of course.”

“Agent Jones,” Gold smiled, leaning slightly on the cane he held in his right hand.  “Good of you to join me here.”

“What do you want?” Killian asked, and Liam could hear the anger in his voice as well.  Good.  They needed anger.  Anything to keep them going, to distract them from the fear he knew they both felt so sharply.

“Ah, Agent Jones the younger, nice to see you, too.”

“Go to hell,” Killian snarled.

Gold only smiled.  “Careful what you say, Agent.  I might just bring hell here.”

For a moment, the icy tendrils of fear broke through the roiling rage inside Liam, clawing up through his chest and lodging somewhere in his throat.  But only for a moment.

“Why are we here?” Liam bit out.

The grin on Gold's face only widened.  “You’ll find out soon enough.”  The ex-MI6 agent walked across the room slowly, his wooden cane tapping at the floor with each step closer to Liam's chair.

“Leave him alone,” Killian called out angrily.  “Don't you dare touch him, Gold.”

Liam caught a glimpse of the bright spark in Gold's eyes before he turned to where Killian stood secured in the chains, and he knew - _oh, God…_  

“Don't worry, _partner_ ,” Liam heard Gold sneer to his brother as he swallowed hard.  “I won't touch your brother.  He'll be perfectly fine.”

_No…_

“Where’s Milah?” Killian shot back, the hard edge of his voice wavering just slightly.  “What did you do with her?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Gold said, standing between Liam and Killian.  “What did _you_ do with her, Killian, when you took her from me?”

Absolute _fury_ crossed Killian’s face at that.  “I didn’t take her, she _left_ you!” he spat out.

Liam could hear the smile in Gold’s voice - hard and cold - as he replied.  “Wrong answer.”

Before either brother could move, Gold swung his cane into Killian’s midsection.  Liam heard his own voice crying out, his eyes glued on Killian as the younger brother grunted loudly, a flash of pain across his face.  Killian had no way to protect himself from the blows, his arms raised above his head as Gold hit him again, along his side.  Killian gasped, but didn’t have a chance to recover before the wooden stick slammed hard into his stomach.

“Stop it!” Liam cried, twisting his arms as hard as he could against the straps that held him tied down.  “Leave him alone!”

To Liam’s surprise, Gold dropped the cane to the floor and turned to face him.  Behind him, Killian gasped for air, his eyes squeezed shut against pain and exertion.

“I’ll leave him alone, Agent Jones,” Gold drawled, stepping closer to the chair in which Liam sat.  The ex-agent absently brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, the only outward sign of the recent strikes he rained down on Killian.  “But I’m going to need something from you first.”

Liam felt chills travel up his spine at those words.  He knew this wouldn’t be as simple as giving Gold what he asked.  He _knew_.  But he asked anyway.  “What do you want?”

Gold smiled broadly.  “It’s simple, really.  All I need are the access codes to your new troubleshooting program, and you’re free to go.  With a few addendums, of course.  It’s all up to you, Agent.  We can do this the easy way, or the bloody way.”

Liam rocked back as if struck, though not a single blow landed on him.

He understood exactly what Gold wanted, and why.  The new program, finally completed after years of work, was the greatest project MI6 had ever compiled.  Set to cull key words from phone records, emails, and other intercepted communication, it was programmed to predict patterns, find areas that were experiencing disturbances, and extrapolate the likelihood that an operative needed to get involved to restore the peace.  If Gold gained access to that… he’d have the entire network of MI6 agents and their rough locations at his fingertips.

“No,” Liam breathed out.  “I… I can’t.”  He glanced quickly to his brother, who nodded silently.  “I can’t tell you anything.”

 _I’m sorry, Killian_ , he thought, his breath hitching slightly in his chest.   _I’m so sorry._

Gold sighed dramatically and turned away.  “I was afraid you’d say that, Agent Jones.”  He nodded once, and stepped back.

Two of the other men who’d been standing silently nearby walked forward, approached Killian where he stood immobilised.  The taller one pulled back his fist, rocked it straight into Killian’s gut.  Liam couldn’t breathe, his eyes locked on his brother’s as Killian huffed out a breath, his face twisting in pain.  The shorter man’s fist made contact with Killian’s back, just above his left hip.  Liam could only watch, horrified, pangs of fear jolting through his chest as Killian arched back, his mouth open in a silent cry.

Liam yanked at the straps on his wrists, his legs shaking uncontrollably against the chair legs to try to get free, to save Killian, to do _something_.  He couldn’t budge, couldn’t _move_ , as the men landed blow after blow on his brother’s body, Killian’s grunts and gasps the only sounds he could hear anymore.

He couldn’t even hear the sound of his own voice, screaming for them to stop.

* * *

Killian’s entire body twisted with the force of the punches, his already-bruised ribs protesting the hard strikes on his muscles.  He tried to stay quiet, but he couldn’t hold back the low groans that tore from his lips with each blow.  He couldn’t breathe; they kept hitting him so fast, so hard, he couldn’t _breathe_ , his chest heaving for air that wouldn’t come, wouldn’t fill his lungs.

But he heard Liam, heard his brother shouting for the men to leave him alone.  He tried to open his eyes, to let Liam know it was all right, he could take the beating.  God knew he’d been through enough of them already in his time with MI6, not to mention the scrapes and fistfights he’d been in as a boy.  Each time they hit him, his eyes squeezed closed just a little tighter as he held back as much as he could, tried to be strong, brave, whatever Liam needed him to be, to keep Gold from getting those codes.

A fist hit him in the centre of his chest, and for a moment Killian saw bright spots at the edges of his vision.  His lungs refused to open, his mouth gaping as he fought for air between the strikes.  In a panic, he pulled open his eyes, his gaze darting around the room until he found Liam, found his brother.  Liam was shaking in the chair, pulling madly on his restraints, his eyes focused on Killian.

For a moment, their gazes locked, the depths of Liam’s pain obvious in pale blue eyes he knew so well.  Killian tried to fix his brother with a hard stare, begging him not to give in, not because of him, but all he could see was Liam’s eyes filling with tears.

It was all he needed to get his chest to start working.  He pulled in a ragged breath, just in time for a punch to his side to leave him gasping once more.  Breathe, grunt, repeat.  He could almost anticipate the rhythm of their attack, figure out his own, and as long as he ignored the fierce agony of each fist hitting his body, the sharp burn of the cuffs pulling on his wrists, he could stay breathing, keep from gasping for air.

Before he realised, they’d stopped, the two men stepping backward away from him at some command he hadn’t even heard.  He sagged as much as the chains would allow.  He could barely feel his hands anymore past the metal handcuffs.

Killian took a shaky breath, his entire torso screaming in protest with every movement he made.  He felt his heartbeat begin to slow down, the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears quieter with each passing moment.  He forced his eyes open, mildly alarmed at how much effort it took to focus on finding his brother a few feet away.

Liam.

Their gazes locked, Liam’s eyes watery and full of concern.  Killian could almost hear the question.  He nodded silently, the only movement that didn’t hurt.  Liam nodded back.

Liam’s gaze flicked to Gold, who must have started talking.  It didn’t matter what he said, Killian knew.  His brother wouldn’t tell.  He _couldn’t_ tell.  Too many lives were at stake for Liam to choose him over them.  He concentrated on catching his breath, which took more effort than he liked, and ignored the murmured mumblings of conversation around him.

But something in the way Liam looked at him forced Killian to pay attention.  His brother’s eyes were wide with fear.

And the two men were moving closer again.

 _Not again_ , Killian groaned silently, bracing himself for the blows he knew would be coming.  Liam was shaking his head to Gold, the sound of his voice muted somehow, lost under the throbbing pain radiating from his chest and back.   _Can’t think about that now_.

Killian managed a small smile, just for his brother.   _It’s okay, Liam_ , he wanted to say.  He waited until Liam saw him, waited until his brother’s expression relaxed just a little bit.   _It’s okay._

The first punch hit him on the right side, the second on his left, and the agony that had finally faded to a manageable level came roaring back.  He gasped, the air he’d fought so hard to capture forced out of his lungs painfully.  A third strike.  Fourth.

He lost track after the sixth.  The room dimmed around him, but he didn’t care.  He just wanted it to end, to be far away from the pain, from Gold, from Kabul.  Somewhere, anywhere else, with Liam and…

 _Milah_ …

A pain of a different kind nestled inside his chest, his heart tight with sudden worry.   _Milah_ , he mouthed silently between blows.

Killian couldn’t fight the darkness slipping in around him, and he didn’t want to.  He surrendered to the pull and let himself drift away.

* * *

Liam watched in horror as Killian slumped where he stood, the two men continuing to beat him even after he was no longer conscious.  His throat hurt from yelling, his wrists and ankles rubbed raw from trying to escape the restraints holding him firmly to the chair, but he didn’t stop either, not when his brother was being tortured right in front of him.  He wasn’t aware of much of what else was going on in the room, but it didn’t matter.

Only Killian mattered.

They stopped hitting him after a time.  He didn’t know how long, all he knew was that it was over.

 _For now_.

At some signal, the two men reached up and unhooked Killian’s arms from the chains holding him suspended from the ceiling.  He sagged bonelessly between them and, despite Liam’s hoarse cries, dragged him from the room without a word.

“Just tell me what I want to know,” Gold said smugly, sauntering between Liam and the door where Killian had just been taken, “and all this can stop.  It’s all up to you, Agent.”

Liam said nothing and looked away from Killian’s ex-partner.

A few silent, terrible moments went by, and the men returned.  Joined by the third, they approached Liam’s chair, untied him, and grasped his limbs tightly.  He tried kicking at them, twisting away from their grasp, but they were too strong.  They took him down the same hallway as they had Killian, back to the small room with the tiny window and the bloodstains on the floor.  Liam stumbled as they shoved him through the door and slammed it behind him, the sound of the heavy, iron bolt sliding through the lock the last noise he heard outside the room.

Liam groped blindly in the dark, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the near blackness of the room.  Killian had to be here somewhere, he _had_ to-

There.

The toe of his shoe nudged something soft.  Liam crouched down, carefully feeling around with his hands.

“Killian?” he whispered hoarsely, his fingers gently touching his brother’s side.  The quiet name burned through his sore throat, but he didn’t care.

There was no reply.

Liam sank down to sit on the floor, the wall at his back, Killian’s motionless form beside him.  He placed his hand on his brother’s side, feeling Killian’s hitching breaths.  In, out, again.

“I’m sorry, Killian,” he murmured.  His voice was barely above a whisper, he couldn’t manage louder.  “I would switch places with you in a heartbeat if I could.  I’m so, so sorry.”

Killian didn’t respond, the only sound in the room his quiet, slightly laboured breathing.

With another apology on his lips, Liam rested his head back against the wall, his hand counting his brother’s breaths until the uneven rhythm lulled him to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is, as the ones before, for @killian-whump in honour of her birthday. At this point, it will be finished in time for her next birthday... It is coming, I promise!
> 
> And, as always, I have an immense amount of gratitude for @icecubelotr44 for everything. Thanks for being my friend.

Killian opened his eyes slowly, the darkness of the room almost as complete as behind his closed eyelids.  For a minute, he wasn’t sure where he was, why he was lying on the ground, why his chest was so sore and it was hard to-

 _Kabul_.   _Gold._

He stifled the urge to get up quickly, to move much at all, and tried to pay attention to what was around him.  He was back in the small room, he recognised that much.  Was Liam there too?  He concentrated on breathing evenly, trying to keep his bruised torso as still as he could, and just listened.

Muffled voices somewhere outside, a few words in Arabic he could hear.  Wind rustling some trees or bushes outside their tiny window.  And the steady, nearly-silent sound of his brother’s breaths behind him.

Killian let out a low sigh, careful not to jostle his chest too much.  His ribs and back throbbed along with his heartbeat.  He couldn’t quite tell if anything was broken, but it was probably safer to act as if something was.  His head rested on the floor, his neck complaining at the angle, and he wondered just how much it would hurt if he tried to roll onto his back.

A cough from Liam made him jump, pulling a low groan from Killian’s throat.

“Killian?” Liam whispered hesitantly.

Killian waited until the urge to groan again passed.  “Aye.”

A pause, and then Killian felt his brother’s hand touch his side gently.  “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”  He didn’t move, even when Liam’s fingers touched a tender spot on his ribs.

Another silence.  Killian didn’t rush to fill it.

“Be honest with me, brother,” Liam said quietly, but firmly.

“Liam, I-”

“I mean it,” Liam cut him off.  “I can’t… I don’t know if I can do this if you won’t tell me the truth.  Lie to Gold, to the others, I don’t care.  But please, Killian.  Talk to me.”

Slowly, gingerly, Killian rolled off his side to face his brother.  Every movement made his chest ache, and he could feel his fists tightening against the flaring pain.  Finally on his back, he let out the breath he’d been holding and faced Liam.  He could barely make out the shape of his brother’s face in the dark.

“On one condition,” he said quietly, grateful that his voice didn’t shake as much as he thought it would.

“Killian,” Liam started softly.  “That’s not-”

“No.”  Killian was firm.  “My turn.”  Liam didn’t respond, so he went on.  “You can’t tell Gold the codes.  No matter what.  That’s the deal.”

“What?  You can’t b-”

“I’ll tell you anything, I’ll be honest with you,” Killian said quickly, “but you have to promise me you won’t give him what he wants.  You can’t, Liam.”

He could hear his older brother swallowing in the dark and, though he couldn’t see Liam’s face, he knew he wasn’t happy.

“I can’t just sit there and let him kill you, Killian,” Liam said quietly, his voice tight.  “I won’t, you can’t ask me to do that.”

Killian paused for a moment, to catch his breath and keep his frustration from getting to him.

“You have to,” he finally said quietly.  “You can’t trade the other agents’ lives for mine.  I’m not worth it.”

He put out a hand, touched Liam’s leg to hold back the argument he knew would be coming.

“I’m not worth _more_ than them, brother,” he murmured, relaxing his tone.  “I won’t lie to you, as long as you keep Gold from getting those access codes.”

Liam didn’t answer right away.  Killian waited for his response, keeping his breathing as even as possible despite the hitching pain that raced through his chest on each inhale.

“I’ll do what I can,” Liam finally said.

“No.”  Killian squeezed his brother’s leg.  “Promise me.”

A quiet sigh.  “Fine.  I promise.”

Before Killian had a chance to reply, the sound of metal scraping in a keyhole caught his attention.

 _They’re back_ , he thought, his heart pumping furiously in a sudden panic.  He felt his brother’s hand over his own just then, Liam’s fingers squeezing tightly.

“It’s okay,” Killian whispered, briefly clenching Liam’s hand.  “It’s gonna be okay.”

The door burst open, light from the outside hallway making Killian blink with the intensity.  The same three men walked in, weapons slung over their shoulder, the same command as before the only word they spoke.

“ _Yalla_.”

Killian didn’t move.  Couldn’t move anyway, too sore and afraid of hurting worse.  Liam squeezed his fingers once more then slowly slid up the wall.  There was no point in fighting back, Killian knew.  They both knew.  They couldn’t overpower the armed guards anyway, and there was no where to go if they did somehow manage it.

The only way to fight was to not give up.

Killian allowed the men to drag him to his feet, managed to stifle a cry of pain, letting out only a low grunt as they manhandled him from the room.  He shuffled along with them, his feet stepping automatically, his eyes locked on his brother a few paces ahead of him.  He tried to ignore the fear racing through his limbs, the nervous trembling that had taken hold in his belly, the images of what could happen this time that kept flashing through his head.

The men brought them to the same room, hooked his arms to the chain above his head in the same spot, strapped Liam to the same chair.  Everything was nearly identical to the way it had been earlier.  Even Gold was standing in the same place he’d been before he’d lost consciousness the last time.

The only difference he could see was the fire burning steadily in the far corner, the light casting flickering shadows around the room that set Killian even more on edge.

He met Liam’s eyes, his brother’s fear evident behind the mask of determination he tried to keep on his features.  They could do this, he hoped.  They could hold on.  And if not, if he didn’t make it… at least Gold wouldn’t get the codes.

“I hope you had a good rest,” Gold said with a grin.  “Might need it.”

Liam spat on the floor at Gold’s feet.  “Go to hell.”

Gold said nothing, only nodded to one of the men somewhere behind Killian.  He heard the footsteps cross the room from beyond his vision, saw as the man approached the fire, reached out a gloved hand and-

_No!_

The man pulled out an iron rod, glowing red at the end.  Killian knew, he _knew_ , what was coming next.  He wanted to struggle, to fight back, to do _something_ but stand there in one place.  But Liam…

He glanced back to his brother.  Liam’s eyes were wide, and he didn’t bother to hide the terror this time.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Agent Jones,” Gold said to Liam.  Killian almost couldn’t hear the other man with his pulse racing so loudly in his ears, the heated metal coming closer and closer as the man approached him, the rod gripped tightly in his protective gloves.  “Just tell me the way into the program and you both can go back home, no more problems, no more hassles.”

Killian saw the apology flash briefly across Liam’s expression, replaced with a firm look a moment later.

“No,” Liam said simply.

Gold shrugged.  “Your choice, his consequence.”  He turned to the man beside Killian.  “Do it.”

Without a pause, the man hefted the hot metal rod and touched the end of it to Killian’s chest.  Killian tried, for a moment, to fight back against the blinding agony that _roared_ from his blistering skin, but he couldn’t think, the pain blocking out everything else.  He could smell his skin burning, his clothes searing in the heat.  

He screamed.

He didn’t know how long it lasted, didn’t really care.  His muscles stretched tight as the agony seemed to go on forever, spreading from his chest outward.  Eventually he realised that the metal was no longer pressed against his body, but the pain left behind continued to burn.  Killian gasped in a breath, his limbs shaking involuntarily.

Slowly, he pulled open his eyes, though he didn’t remember closing them in the first place.  He found his brother through the haze of agony, Liam’s mouth moving, the familiar sound of his own name somehow miles away.

Killian swallowed dryly, fixed Liam with a hard stare.  “Don’t… tell him,” he grunted haltingly.  “Don’t.”

He didn’t see the iron coming this time, but he felt the fire of it - _oh God_ \- burning into his back this time, pain radiating from somewhere just below his shoulder.

This time, he didn’t even bother trying to hold back his cries.

* * *

Liam’s eyes were fixed only on his brother, burning as he refused to blink while watching Killian scream from across the room.  Every muscle in his body felt as if it were pulled taut, and still it wasn’t tight enough.  He needed to get free, he needed to get to his brother, he needed-

He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as the iron rod moved away from Killian’s body, his brother slumping heavily in his chained bonds.  He waited, gaze locked on Killian as his brother drew one ragged breath after another.  Finally, after what felt like hours, Killian’s eyes slowly opened, the normal blue faded, duller than usual.

Their eyes met, Killian’s full of pain, though Liam could see how he tried to hide it, stuff it down, bury it beneath the fierce determined glare that settled over his face.

“D-don’t,” Killian whispered.  “Please…”

Liam fell back in his chair wearily.  Killian was still fighting, still holding on.  He could refuse Gold, he could be at least as strong as his little brother, he could…

He didn’t think he could do this.

“I hate to interrupt,” Gold’s voice said from somewhere off to the side.  Liam didn’t even turn his head.  “But I am waiting for some access codes.”

Liam caught the quick shake of his brother’s head.  He coughed quietly, his eyes never leaving Killian.

“No.”

He wished his voice sounded stronger on that one word, wished it hadn’t managed to waver so much in just one syllable.

He wished he didn’t have to see the way the other two men picked up metal rods of their own, the three of them taking turns holding the heated ends to Killian’s chest, back, legs.  He wished he didn’t have to hear his brother’s screams each time, Killian’s voice growing hoarser with every round.  He wished he didn’t hold the only way out, the only way to end Killian’s pain, the only way he could think of to make it back home alive.

Liam wasn’t sure when it was all over, he didn’t remember very much of anything.  One moment his brother was crying out in pain and the next they were both being dragged back to the cell, Killian no longer conscious.  He didn’t care where they left him in the room.  The second the men released his arms, he crawled over to Killian’s still form, his brother’s clothes burned and tattered all over, so many…

He swallowed.  No time to think, to worry, to feel.  He needed to tend Killian’s wounds as best he could.

Careful not to jostle Killian too much, Liam ripped off the remains of his brother’s shirt, the scorched holes rendering the garment useless.  He could clearly see the burn marks on his Killian’s back and chest, red and angry and so raw.  Couldn’t think about it.

Instead, Liam pulled off his own shirt - dirty, dusty, and rumpled from their capture and imprisonment.  He ripped off the long sleeves of his shirt, pulling them away from the body of the shirt with a sharp sound.  As gently as he could, he wrapped the strips of his sleeves around his brother’s torso, smoothing out the fabric over the fresh wounds as best he could.  That done, he ripped the shirt in half up the back, splitting it in two.  Liam carefully bandaged each half around his brother’s legs, trying to protect the blistered welts as best as he could.

Suddenly weary, Liam sank down to the floor against the wall, his brother’s too-still form just beside him.  He was trembling, he realised, his hand shaking as he reached for Killian.  Gently, slowly, he managed to raise Killian’s head and rest it on his legs.

Killian didn’t move, aside from the irregular breaths that hitched at his chest as they puffed near-silently from his mouth.

Liam couldn’t bring himself to offer his unconscious brother the words he so desperately wanted to say, the words he knew Killian heard already, the words that marched endlessly through his head regardless.  

_I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry…_

He sighed softly, his chin resting on his chest as he stroked his fingers gently through his brother’s sweat-soaked hair.  He didn’t care about the burning tears that filled his eyes this time, the splashes of wetness on his arms as he let them flow down his cheeks, the way they evaporated in the night air only to be replaced with fresh tears a moment later.  He didn’t care about anything, except the one thing he couldn’t do.

Keep Killian safe.

_I’m sorry._


End file.
